


Ho oku i - Aloha Means, I Love You, No Matter What

by Calacious



Series: Ho oku i [5]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of the Ho oku i series. These drabbles feature Danny and Steve, and what it's like for them to live and work together as a sexually active couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the middle of working on another story when the song, "Dancing in the Moonlight," from the 1973 King Harvest album, started playing, and my writing was suddenly hijacked by this muse. Toploader also has credits for this song...either way, this song inspired this little scene.

It’s closing on midnight, and the small celebration party that Steve and Danny are hosting for the end of a particularly tough case is finally winding down. Kono and Chin are stifling yawns, and Danny thinks they’re about ready to say their goodbyes. The hairs on the back of Danny’s neck warn him that he’s being watched, and he turns to find Steve staring at him.

 

The man’s standing at the edge of the ocean, swathed in the white light of the moon. It’s in the third quarter, and Danny only knows this because Grace has a school project, and she’s studying the phases of the moon.

 

Danny can’t quite catalogue the look that Steve’s lobbying in his direction, but it makes his stomach flutter, and he hopes that Chin and Kono can find their own way out, because he doubts that he can be a gracious, or particularly coherent, host right now.

 

Steve holds a hand to Danny out and wiggles his fingers. “Dance with me, Danno.”

 

Danny frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, because it’s late, and, even though they live in Hawaii, the evening is cold, particularly with the Trade Winds coming in off the ocean. Steve arches an eyebrow in challenge, and pouts.

 

“Please?”

 

In the end, it’s a combination of the way that Steve’s eyes widen, and the slight downward turn of his lips – a look that Danny’s certain that Steve has learned from Grace – that causes Danny to capitulate, and he crosses the cool sand to Steve, takes the man’s hand and is suddenly being pulled into a warm embrace.

 

When Steve kisses him, Danny doesn’t even hear Chin and Kono take their leave over the roar of the ocean, and his heart. They dance in the moonlight, and Danny’s lost in the rhythm that Steve sets. He doesn’t particularly mind.

 

 

 


	2. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny's under the weather. Steve lets him know that, when he's feeling better, he'll be there for Danny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Meg Myers', "Desire".

“I’ve missed this.” Steve traces the inside of Danny’s thigh with a fingertip, lets it hover just shy of Danny’s semi-flaccid cock.

 

Danny flushes, and he bites his bottom lip. “Let’s fuck.” His voice is low and scratchy – a remnant of his sore throat.

 

“When you’re ready.” Steve lets his leaking cock brush against Danny’s in lieu of a promise.

 

“I’m ready now,” Danny protests.

 

Steve places a finger on Danny’s parted lips. Heat, from Danny’s fever, lingers. It had left him weak as a kitten for the better part of a week. Steve pulls back.

 

“There’s no rush, babe.”

 

 

 

 


	3. Inner Glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with Steve is like living with two different people - Danny's very own Jekyll and Hyde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Blue October's song, "Inner Glow."

Sometimes Danny feels like Steve’s two different people. There’s the man that he can access, and, then there’s the one that he can’t. His very own Jekyll and Hyde – two for the price of one.

 

The one who’s shut off from Danny – shuttered eyes, closed-off face, hands hard as a rock, and just as desperate for the intimacy of touch, though they give nothing to Danny in return – makes his heart ache, and long for _his_ Steve.

 

Those nights, Danny gives Steve what he wants. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t make demands. Doesn’t talk about anything that matters. Natters on about inanities. Pretends that it doesn’t hurt when Steve leaves before dawn – his side of the bed empty and cold, leaving Danny feeling lost and alone.

 

_That_ Steve is a bundle of mysteries wrapped up behind a wall of secrecy, and the words: _Sorry, Danny, that’s classified_. Not even a _Danno_ to ease the impact of the blow.

 

And, then there’s the one who’s open, vulnerable – fuck me eyes, lips that leave Danny speechless, and hands, work-roughened, but gentle, and eager to please, they offer Danny the world in an oyster’s shell.

 

It’s _this_ Steve that Danny loves most, and yet, Danny knows that, without the one, he wouldn’t have the other, and, as far as compromises goes, there’s no contest, because, without Steve, he’s got nothing.

 

Danny will take the bad with the good, if it means that he can wake up, most mornings, with Steve’s warm body pressed tightly to his, spooning him from behind, arm flung protectively across Danny’s chest, knee wedged between Danny’s.


	4. Addicted to Danny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes and realizes that, not only is Danny not there, but he never came to bed that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by, “Addicted to Love,” Florence + The Machine - a song suggestion from emilyroleplay1 (on ff dot net).

Steve wakes suddenly, and, at first, he’s not sure what’s woken him – the curtains are billowing in the breeze coming off the ocean, the house is quiet.

 

But then it hits him, with jarring force– Danny’s missing – and his heart races; beating double-time. 

 

“Danny?” he whispers, fingers searching his partner’s side of the bed.

 

It’s cool, the sheets smooth, and ghosted with just a trace of Danny’s scent, like the man hadn’t even come to bed that night. Sitting, Steve scrubs at his face, rubs his eyes, trying to clear the cobwebs from his sleep-addled mind.

 

Throat dry, tongue thick and cottony, palms itchy, stomach queasy, Steve flicks on the bedside lamp, casts his gaze around the room, into the shadows and corners. Danny’s not there and it feels like he’s been kicked in the gut.

 

“Danny?” Steve drops his legs over the side of the bed, clambers to his feet, hand placed against the wall for additional support.

 

He tries to remember what had happened earlier that night, why Danny wouldn’t be in their bed at just after two in the morning, but his mind comes up a blank.

 

_Drinking._ He remembers drinking, and laughing, and Kono, with her hands all over Danny, a spike of jealousy, and making an ass out of himself, accusing Danny and Kono of having an affair… _shit._

Steve stumbles out of the room, tripping over his own feet in his haste as he remembers, with cold alacrity, what he’d said, and how he’d fucked up. He careens into the wall, and pushes off of it, nearly does a header down the stairs.

 

There’s Danny, splayed out on the couch, limbs dangling off the edge, mouth slightly open, a blanket tucked haphazardly around his hips, hair disheveled – he’s a beautiful mess.

 

_Fuck._ It hits Steve like a ton of bricks _._ Danny’s a drug. Steve an addict.  Steve’s breath catches in his throat as he drinks in the sight of Danny, swathed in a pool of light from the moon.  

 

Kono’s on the floor, blanket tucked around her slim shoulders, Danny’s pillow beneath her head. Chin’s within arm’s reach of his cousin, equally dead to the world as the other two, slumbering after a night of heavy drinking.

 

Heart thudding in his chest, Steve carefully wends his way through the living room, not wanting to disturb the sleeping occupants. It’s almost like walking through a minefield, except, here, the only bomb he has to worry about setting off is his partner, who has every right to blast into him.

 

Uncertain how best to proceed, Steve finishes his approach from behind the couch, climbs up over the back of it, and wedges himself carefully between his still sleeping partner and the cushions. It’s a tight fit, and Danny barely stirs.

 

Steve holds his breath when Danny’s brow furrows and he mutters something incoherent in his sleep. Steve sinks back into the cushions, making room for himself, remembering the first time that he and Danny had made love, on this very couch, and chastising himself for thinking about that at a time like this.

 

“Steve?” Danny’s voice is soft and confused, like he’s speaking in a dream. He’s not awake, but he turns, and Steve, fearing that Danny’s going to fall off the couch when the blanket refuses to accommodate the movement, pulls him in close.

 

Danny sighs, and tucks his head beneath Steve’s chin, his warm breath caressing Steve’s collarbone with every exhale. Danny wraps his arms and legs around Steve, and clings to him like a koala to a eucalyptus tree.

 

“Sorry, Danno,” Steve whispers, knowing that Danny can’t hear him, but needing to say the words for his own peace of mind.

 

“I love you.” Steve kisses Danny’s forehead, his heart settling into a more sedate pace as Danny’s breathing evens out. Closing his eyes, Steve knows that he’s got a lot of apologizing to do in the morning, but, for now, with Danny, safe in his arms, he’s content, and sleep comes quickly.


	5. It's His Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny loses the plot in the middle of an argument. (a drabble-ish size writing that I didn't want to post on its own)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Inspired by Limp Bizkit's "My Way".

They're arguing. Steve's a, 'my way or the highway,' kind of guy, and Danny's a, 'let's check out some other avenues,' kind of guy. It works, though. Most of the time. Checks and balances, and all that shit, which really makes for a great partnership, even when they're arguing as they are now, like cats and dogs.

And then Steve turns to him with _that look_ in his eyes. Cheeks flushed. Eyes dark and hollow, and Danny feels like he's being drawn into the depths of them, almost forgets his line, remembers it at the last moment, before the thread of the argument can be lost, and delivers it.

It's not the punchline that it's meant to be. Falls short, and he feels like the wind's been knocked out of him. Heart racing, palms sweaty.

Steve snaps back, and Danny only gets three words into the counterargument when Steve's lips brush against his. Fingers tangle in hair, and then there's mindless groping and moaning, and Danny loses the plot altogether. Words a jumbled mess in his head.

He blames the loss of the argument on Steve's eyes. The predatory gleam that they get, which changes them from green to blue to dark, black pools of infinity. They swallow him, and Danny doesn't even know what he's doing to make Steve get _that_ _look_. Just knows that it undoes him, even more than Steve's hands-fingers-tongue when they're fucking, or making love, or sitting on the couch, knees and thighs touching, watching a baseball game, making out during commercial breaks, or when a player hits a home run, slides his way to home base - Steve's tongue in Danny's mouth, fingers tangled in hair, broad hand gently cupping the back of his head- the crowd erupting into wild cheers, and Danny's brain short circuiting.


	6. Scarred Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny is Steve's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Eli Mac's, "They Don't Know," which has been playing on the radio recently. 
> 
> Imperfect, and just going with how my mind responded to the music.

[Eli Mac, "They Don't Know"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7qNIuSrFu0)

It's raining. Steve closes his hand around Danny's hip, fingers digging gently into scarred flesh, warm to the touch.

Danny moans, a low, sensual sound that goes straight to Steve's cock, and travels along his spine like an electric shock.

"Steve?" Danny's sleep slurred voice catches when Steve's fingers massage the spiderweb-like furrows that mar his lover's hip, fingertips tracing each raised piece of skin and mapping the scar from the top of Danny's hip to outer thigh.

"Sh." Steve presses a kiss to Danny's nose when his lover turns his head, blue eyes blinking in the dim light.

The blinds are closed, obscuring the view of palm trees bending beneath the onslaught of a wicked wind that Steve can feel in the marrow of his bones. He shivers, and Danny captures Steve's exploring fingers in his own, holds them still for a moment before bringing them up between them and bending to kiss the palm of Steve's hand.

There's a scar there, too. A thin, silver-white scar in the shape of a fishing hook. Steve had gotten it when he was just a kid. He hadn't felt the knife slip, hadn't noticed the sting that he's certain must've been there. Hadn't felt a thing until his mother had poured iodine over it and bandaged it. He remembers being a 'big' boy and sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it so that he wouldn't cry.

He can feel Danny's scar, though Danny's still got a hold of his hand. Can feel the knifing pain of it as though it was he, rather than Danny, who'd been hit with the shrapnel from a blast that had nearly cost Steve everything that mattered in life - Danny.

Steve remembers sitting beside his partner, in life, work, and love, and, though he was older than he'd been when he'd gotten the 'fish hook' scar, he remembers crying. Remembers staring the doctors down when they tried to push him out of Danny's room. They didn't know, no one did, that sending Steve out would have been like cutting his heart out and feeding it to his enemies.

"Hey." Danny's voice is a whisper of sound, the wind of the storm raging outside almost whips it away. "None of that."

Danny rubs his thumb across the 'fish hook' scar, and kisses the thoughtful frown from Steve's lips, melding his body against Steve's until it's unclear where Steve ends and Danny begins. They share the same bed, the same flesh, the same breath as Danny exhales and Steve breathes in on a kiss.

 


	7. Rumpled Bed Sheets and Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long week. Steve hasn't slept. All he can think about is crawling into bed with Danny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to the following review by Lister4eva, "Just wondering if you would maybe listen ti Bon Jovi - Bed of roses and see if inspiration hits? Haha xx" Inspiration hit, though not in the way that I had expected it to, and this turned out to be much longer and from Steve, not Danny's, point-of-view. I hope that this is acceptable, Lister4eva. Thanks for the song recommendation. :-)
> 
> Please forgive any errors you may find herein. Mahalo

[Bed of Roses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvR60Wg9R7Q)

It's been a long trip; each day blending into the next until it seemed like it was nothing but one hellish, unending day of back-to-back meetings and stupid training exercises.

It's only been a week. It feels longer.

Steve's exhausted. He should have slept on the plane. Couldn't. Hasn't been able to sleep the entire time he's been gone.

He toggles his phone to life and searches for a message that isn't there. He took an earlier flight. Danny won't be waiting at the airport for him. He's still sleeping, stretched out across the entire mattress like a starfish, blankets bunched around his hips, Steve's pillow trapped beneath his stomach, head resting where Steve's chest should be.

Most nights, Danny's head is pillowed on Steve's chest, and Steve's curled around his lover, using Danny's pillow because Danny steals his, or tosses it off the bed, just like he steals all of the blankets, and still, he complains that his feet are too cold.

Steve's blood has always run warm. He misses the cold of Danny's feet digging into his calves, the sleepy-eyed look he gives Steve when the alarm goes off and he wants to sleep a few minutes more.

Grabbing his carry-on from the overhead bin, Steve stretches, careful of the pregnant woman to his right, and the older man standing in front of him. There's a kid bouncing in and out of the aisle, talking a mile a minute to his parents, and all Steve can think about is how much that kid reminds him of Danny after too much, or not enough, coffee.

Everyone's lined up to leave the plane, pressed together like sardines. Anxious to get off the plane and get home, or to the hotel they'll be spending their hard earned vacation money at, they shift from foot-to-foot and crane their necks to see how much more waiting they have to do before it's their turn to exit.

Steve closes his eyes, breathes in as deep as he dares and pictures what he wants to see most - Danny, naked, sun-kissed skin a beautiful contrast to their wine colored bed sheets (a wedding gift from Kono).

The sheets remind Steve, not so much of wine, but of rose petals, soft and smooth as silk. They're a perfect backdrop for lovemaking, or for those mornings when Steve wakes early, and Danny's still sleeping long after Steve's finished his morning swim and he comes back to watch his lover sleep, no matter how creepy Danny thinks it is.

Danny's skin will be warm when Steve gets home. Steve's touch will elicit little bumps of gooseflesh, his kiss a low moan and a slight movement of rolling hips.

Danny'll wake grumbling, asking for a few more minutes of sleep, and he'll pull Steve into bed next to him, pin Steve's leg with one of his own and wrap an arm around his middle. Sometimes Steve feels like a glorified teddy bear when he wakes beside Danny.

Steve exits the plane and quickly separates himself from the slow moving masses. His long legged stride gives him an advantage, and he makes his way through the airport before most of the other passengers have reached the baggage claim area. He only brought a carry on, and quickly gets a cab, leans back in the seat and rests his eyes. The sun'll be up in an hour. Steve will beat it home.

"Business trip?" the cab driver asks. Steve can feel the man's eyes on him in the rear-view mirror.

Steve grunts, and nods. It's close enough to the truth. The week long convention for leaders in law enforcement had been more business and relationship (network) building than anything else.

Even the training exercises had been boring, though Steve has a niggling suspicion that everything would have been less boring if he could have had Danny by his side. That, maybe he'd have slept through the night had Danny been taking up the whole bed, sprawled half across him, toes digging painfully into Steve's calves.

"Your wife waiting for you at home?" the cab driver asks.

Steve considers the question a second before answering in the affirmative. Danny'd have his balls if he knew.

'What Danny doesn't know can't hurt you,' Steve tells himself, and he grimaces, because he knows it's just a matter of time before Danny finds out about this. Steve adjusts himself in his seat, hopes that it's not too obvious.

The cab driver chuckles, and Steve wishes the man would stop peeking back at him through the rear-view mirror. "Want me to stop by a flower stand on the way, so you're not coming home empty handed?"

Steve drags a hand over his face and leans forward. He blinks the tiredness from his eyes. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

Danny likes flowers. At least Steve thinks he does. He blames his lack of knowledge on the matter on the exhaustion that's settled into his bones rather than on simply not knowing. If he was more awake, he'd know.

The driver pulls over to the side of the road where there's a table set up. An elderly couple is sitting behind it, even at this early, pre-dawn hour, and there are dozens of bouquets strewn across the top of the table, there are boxes filled with more beneath it.

Steve stands in front of the table, the need for sleep clear in his indecision. The woman points to a bouquet of roses, her gnarled finger certain in the choice that she's made for Steve.

"That one," she says. "You bring that one home and you will get much love."

Steve blinks at the bouquet she's chosen and forks out a couple of bills which she quickly tucks away into a pocket of her apron. She doesn't give him change, though she does give him a nearly toothless smile. Her partner hands the bouquet to Steve, and once more he's on his way home, this time the driver is silent, and Steve falls into a light doze, waking when the cab stops in his driveway. He gives the man a generous tip and waits until the cab leaves before turning to face the front door.

He's only been gone a week.

It feels longer.

Clutching the bouquet of roses in one hand, his carry-on slung over his shoulder, Steve takes a deep breath and heads into the house, anticipation thrumming in his veins and making him feel more awake than he's felt since Danny dropped him off at the airport. He'd carried their good-bye kiss in memory that had tingled on his lips every time he thought of Danny.

He's careful not to wake Danny as he makes his way up the stairs and opens the door to their bedroom. He holds his breath as he takes in the sight of his lover, asleep. Face free from worry lines, Danny looks perfectly at peace. Steve wants to take a picture. Instead, he drinks it all in, and breathes.

Danny's on his stomach, arms and legs flung wide, left foot hanging off the bed. Rumpled, the blankets are pooled around Danny's hips. He's snoring lightly, mouth open, hair a tousled golden halo on Steve's pillow.

Danny's pillow's lying on the floor, a casualty to Danny's usual tossing and turning. Steve picks it up on his way to the bed, and dropping his carry-on beside the bed, the bouquet of roses on the nightstand, Steve quickly strips down to his boxers, picks up Danny's arm and scoots into bed beside him.

Danny smacks his lips, turns his head in Steve's direction and tries, but fails, to open his eyes. He mutters something incomprehensible, and Steve smiles as he settles in beside the man he loves. Danny's body molds itself around Steve, and for the first time in a week, Steve falls into a peaceful slumber, the object of his dreams ensconced safely in his arms.

 


End file.
